


Labyrinth

by dragongummy



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: ....quite literally STRAIGHT into the porn, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Bloodplay, Bottom Frank Castle, Bottom!Frank, Drugged Sex, Drugged sex is not consensual sex technically so, Extremely Dubious Consent, Kinda?, M/M, Manipulation, Mild Language, Multiple Orgasms, Neck Kissing, Oh, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Prison, Probably ooc, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Riding, Rimming, Stockholm Syndrome, literally no plot, lol, not sorry, second chapter also has
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 17:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11994747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragongummy/pseuds/dragongummy
Summary: Wilson Fisk is aware of the danger Frank poses. Of his chaos. Fisk wants to possess him.Or: The prison fic I wrote at 3am to satisfy my need to have Frank Castle be on the bottom CAUSE THAT'S HOT OK12/4/17 UPDATE - Separate fic not related to the first chapter, but still Wilson Fisk/Frank Castle





	1. Chapter 1

He's held down. A prick in his neck. It takes a few minutes to kick in and Frank is scared. He lashes out. Kicks and bites and growls like an animal. He can't see straight, his body is on fire. There are hands on him, and he jumps. He tries using his elbows and knees but it's dark and there are too many people around him and he's not coherent enough. He waits for a knife. A shiv. A punch. It doesn't come. The hands instead roam under his shirt, up his back. He tenses, breathing heavily. There's another body against his and the hands are in his pants now. They grip his ass and ghost down his thighs. He tries to headbutt in front of him but instead comes into contact with a chest. He's held close and he grunts at another prick in his neck. He gasps and falls into the body in front of him. Frank grips the person's shirt and even though he tries to focus, tries to stay alert, he can't. 

He's on a bed, he thinks. He can't move his arms, but he tries. Oh, how he tries. He's restrained; his arms are crossed behind him and the pull on his shoulders is uncomfortable until he shifts. The fight leaves him fast, the hands are on him again. They spread his legs and squeeze his thighs more than once, as if appreciating the muscle there. Frank is hot all over and doesn't protest when he's manuevered into getting his shirt over his head. The fabric gathers behind him where his arms are bound tight.

"I won't hurt you." Two strong hands settle on holding his ribs on each side. An anchor holding him down as everything else spins. The knuckles press in between the bones and it makes him arch against the pressure. When a hand ghosts over his throat he lifts his leg to kick. His ankle is caught but there's no agitation in the movement when his leg is set back down.

"I know that is what you want. What you expect." Wait. That voice. Frank knows it, he knows he does. Then there's a hand down his pants, holding him in a hot fist and Frank turns his head away. Because he can't be here for this. He can check out. He's done it before. When he'd had to kill people in Iraq. And Afganistan. Sometimes, checking out was the only way to get the job done.

"No one will hurt you again, baby boy." Frank doesn't like that, he hates that. 

"Don't fucking touch me," Frank says. It comes out as a whisper. Forceful. But uncertain. Frank blinks several times. The face in front of him is blurry and ever shifting. But he makes out a bald head and his heart stops.

"You." There's nowhere to go and Frank makes a last effort to kick out again. His leg is stopped and Frank turns his body to dive from the bed. The momentum doesn't catch and in an instant he's flipped onto his stomach. His pants are pulled off of him and down his legs. They unceremoniously land on the floor. _He wouldn't._ But he does. The tongue is on him, it's in him and it's not lost on Frank that _Wilson Fisk_ hasn't let go of his dick. It's in his hand as he pushes into him. Electricity is all over him and Frank knows he's not a little boy anymore but he's already about to cum. 

"What did you..." A series of forceful, wet licks into him and Frank shivers with the effort to stay still. But he's shaking. He can _feel_ himself shaking and Fisk separates himself from Frank's skin long enough to mumble an answer.

"Testosterone. Something the body naturally produces, so it won't harm you." He's flipped back over and Fisk crawls up his body. Two fingers force into him and for a moment it hurts, he thinks he'll throw up. But he doesn't and his mouth opens when they immediately push against something inside him that makes Frank's body arch. Why? Why was Fisk doing this? The confusion must be written on his face. That or Fisk understands him better than he would like. The fingers press in. Fisk's thumb is rubbing at the skin behind his balls and Frank's hips roll up to meet the pleasure. He lets a low moan slip out.

"Why the fuck?" It's all he can manage to say now. Fisk is draped over him. He's watching Frank. His eyes are traveling his body, reading him. The fingers are relentless in their obvious task and within a few minutes Frank tenses. In the moments before he snaps his body opens up, releases some tension. And Fisk's fingers push deeper, harder, faster. Frank breaks, he cums in waves on his belly and he's unaware when Fisk uses a finger to turn Frank's head towards him so he can watch.

"I'd have thought it was obvious," Fisk tells him over his gasping. "I'm going to tame you, Frank Castle. You remind me of two people who are very important to me. The perfect mix of them both, I'd say." Frank's mind is swimming and the room is phasing in and out. His body feels light.

"I want to make a place for you in the new world."

Frank closes his eyes. The world fades out. Wilson Fisk holds him close.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  

 

One Month Later

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

 

Frank tries not to make a sound. But he must be making _some_ kind of noise because there are encouraging words in his ear and a hand behind his neck. The pace is unrelenting. Deep, slow and with a purpose. Frank's body seizes momentarily when sparks erupt into pleasure behind his eyelids. He grits his teeth against the build up of fire in his groin.

"Look at me," says the voice in his ear. The hand behind his neck briefly trails down to his shoulder, roughly kneading the muscles there until Frank groans from the pressure. It feels nice; he tilts his head to the side to allow more access and opens his eyes. He'd forgotten he'd closed them. Frank's eyelids flutter for a moment against the ache being worked out of his back. The man below him comes into focus; zeroed in on Frank. The hand moves back to his neck.

"There you are," the voice whispers. Frank tries to breathe through it, he tries to shut it out. But the hand on his neck tightens in time with the hand on his hip and the pain of it brings him back.

"You're _here_ ," the voice reminds him. Knowingly. Aggressively. "With _me_." Frank is spread apart in his lap, _in Wilson Fisk's lap_. Legs bracketing either side of Fisk's waist, Frank's knees resting on the mattress beneath them both. And he's struck again, deep inside and it feels good. It feels like something Frank doesn't deserve and now he knows he's making desperate low sounds because he can hear it. It makes his face hot with embarrassment and he bites at the thumb that tries to force its way into his mouth. Another wave of pleasure racks his body and the thumb presses against the top of his tongue when his jaw goes slack.

"You're a wonder," Fisk hisses. He has one of Frank's nipples between his fingers and he twists it before he places it on Frank's lower back. He holds Frank there in mock tenderness because that's what Frank has to believe. This isn't a real thing. This is just Wilson Fisk asserting himself over him, reminding him that he owns this prison. And that he owns Frank too. That's all this is, _it has to be_. Even now as Fisk rubs his fingers over where their bodies meet-

"Don't-," is all Frank can manage before that spot inside him is pushed against again. It makes Frank weak, it breaks him in a way nothing else can. He knows Fisk can feel the tremors running through him because he continues the grind into him. He angles his thrusts the same way until Frank relaxes into it against his own accord. The slide in and out of him is slick and easy and fluid. For a moment Fisk lets Frank drop his head back before pulling his face back down into view.

"You like that?" The pressure builds and a sound escapes Frank against his will. "Right here?" It's too much and Frank shifts as he tries to brace himself when he feels the inevitable fall approach.

"Come on, baby boy." Fisk has one hand on his ass now and he pulls him down, pulls him close. Digs his nails in until it's painful and Frank's back arches against the stimulation. Fisk seems to like that because he pulls Frank's face close. Bites at Frank's chin. Watching him. Frank pulls against the strain of his arms tied behind his back with whatever kind of leverage he has. He wants to feel the pain of the cuffs in his wrists and the wire on his arms. Something to distract himself. But Fisk can read him easily enough. He runs his hands all over his body, like positive reinforcement, and it threatens to send Frank over the edge. He doesn't know how to warn Fisk, he never does. He doesn't have to.

"This is all for you," Fisk says. Frank doesn't know what that means, _he doesn't know what that means_.

Fisk takes him in his hand. Two fingers press behind his balls, coaxing him. The force of his release surprises him and Fisk hungrily fucks up into his body as it tightens. He drops his head to Fisk's shoulder as he shudders through it, not having the energy to do anything else but pant into Fisk's chest when teeth scrape over the skin between the cord of his neck and his collarbone. That makes Frank lift his hips. Trying to get himself together but the hand on his hip holds him there and makes him ride through his orgasm until his shaking stops. The hand around him tightens, strips his cock fast. Soft sounds are falling out of Frank's mouth. He's not softening; Fisk is bringing him to the ledge again. Frank jerks his body straight and he pulls against his bonds again.

"Fucking piece of shit..." Frank arches and twists against the onslaught. "Stop it, don't make me-" 

"Make you?" Frank is already on the razor edge. His body is a livewire and Fisk watches him with something close to awe when Frank's growl fizzes into the dirtiest moan that a man like him can make. He bites his lip against it even though he's aware of his own hips starting to chase the cock in his ass and the hand wrapped around him.

"Show me." It's an order, laced with authority and Frank arches into Fisk again. Fisk's other arm wraps around Frank's waist and he flips them in an instant. He pushes Frank's legs apart as wide as he can before covering Frank's body with his own. He drives into Frank in every way that lights him up and tears every ounce of pleasure from him that he can. Fisk claims his mouth then as he cums into Fisk's hand for the second time. He shakes apart in Fisk's arms and Fisk swallows his noises like it's the last time he can have them. There's a hand on his thigh. Possessive.

 

"We'll be unstoppable, you know." And Fisk believes it. Frank can hear that he believes it. Fisk's hand on his thigh squeezes.

 

Possessive.

 


	2. Racketeer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon diversion AU to where Frank Castle belongs to Wilson Fisk in prison. Fisk is sweet on him. Probably OOC Frank, but I tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You right, you right. This is basically another excuse to write smut with a bottom! Frank. BUT no one else is gunna do it sooooooooooooo  
> *painful wink*

**trap**

Fisk learned a long time ago to always keep Frank Castle restrained. It didn't matter how pretty he sounded, or how flushed his body got. Or how much his eyes begged for him to be freed. Fisk can see the tactical approach to it, even when Fisk dangles him on that line of aching. Even when Frank finally lets his back arch, when he responds with low hums to Fisk's hands on him. Frank's eyes are still aware, and that makes him dangerous. Fisk won't underestimate him again.

Fisk tells himself this. Even as he watches Frank cum on his cock for the first time, shivering and growling, Fisk has to remind himself.

 

**despite**

More than anyone else, when Frank finally cums it's a thing of beauty. He shakes. Grits his teeth against it like it's worse than feeling pain. Fisk lays his hands on him, wraps his hands around his powerful body. Frank is all muscle. Defined and strong. And he shouldn't be able to move sensually. All by looks, Frank was masculine. Beer and cigar kind of feel. But Frank moved in ways he shouldn't have been able to. His spine twisted and his legs would lift and bend until just his toes were touching the sheets. He hides his face into the crook of his arm and pants.

Fisk massages into his stomach, squeezes his sides. He runs his palms up Frank's arms, slides his hand into Frank's hair. He pushes into Frank until he feels Frank tighten around him. It's a tell that Frank can't hide, not like he can hide everything else. So Fisk keeps the angle until Frank's body betrays him. He holds onto Frank's hips, pulls him to meet his thrusts. Lets Frank feel it. Until his face finally breaks and he gasps through another orgasm. Fisk strokes him tight in his fist and the sounds Frank makes don't coincide with what Fisk could have ever imagined. Purely sexual. If that wasn't enough, Frank makes that face up at Fisk, like he's receiving this pleasure as _punishment._  And that has Fisk spilling into Frank's body.

How _fascinating_.

 

**hot**

Frank is straining against his touch. The cords in his neck are pronounced as he rolls his hips. He's _really_ into it tonight. Responsive. His eyelids are heavier, his head tilts when Fisk runs a hand up his strong thigh. He sighs low and loud when Fisk roughly rubs his thumb against Frank's nipple.

It's a risk, but Fisk leans down to attach his mouth to Frank's neck. His skin is hot and salty. Masculine. Frank's body tightens at the attention and a soft, shuddering moan escapes Frank's mouth. And Fisk is there, he stays there, mouth open and tongue slick on Frank's neck. He stays there until Frank cums and Fisk hardens even more when Frank tilts his head to expose the skin there as his orgasm spills from him. Like he can't help it. 

So Fisk lavishes his neck. Sounds and curses spill from Frank's lips. His hips buck and he writhes underneath Fisk. He fucks another orgasm from Frank that way until Frank starts to hiss from overstimulation. But he lets Fisk continue to rock into him afterwards, even if he avoids Fisk's gaze. But his face is red. From embarrassment? 

He'll take it.

 

**yourself**

There was a fight in the yard that afternoon. Frank was all elbows and knees. Rage in every direction. Blood down his front. No one could corner him, no one could keep him down. Fisk watches; he hardens in his pants. Fisk has never seen anything like Frank. Not even close. No force capable of what Frank is capable of. When the guards storm the yard, Fisk stands and moves to be by Frank. Wraps an arm around Frank's front when it's clear the security thinks Frank is the issue. Frank is breathing heavily, he's hunched a little. His head is tucked low, like a boxer waiting for a jab. He can feel Frank's heart pounding against his forearm. Fisk needs.

"He's mine to discipline." And no one questions it, no one makes snide remarks. Everyone knows. Everyone hears. The other bodies are taken to the hospital wing of the prison and Fisk takes Frank back to their cell. Feigns annoyance by slapping the back of Frank's head, hissing curses at him when they pass by people and Fisk must be going soft. Because Frank looks wrecked, he looks lost. But he also looks angry; wired. On edge. Fisk takes note of how Frank reacts to violence.

So when they get back to their cell, he pushes Frank against the wall. Crowds his space until Frank is growling like an animal, his eyes are focussed on him and threatening. Fisk pushes a knee between Frank's thighs, relishing the sound Frank makes. Frank is hard. Fisk hums knowingly. They stay like that for a few moments, Fisk rubbing his knee against Frank's crotch. Continues until Frank's lashes flutter. Fisk feels something akin to affection in his chest when Frank reaches down slowly. Slowly, into his pants. Cautiously. Like Fisk is going to stop him. Fisk slowly reaches for Frank's free arm, mirroring Frank's caution. Frank lets him. He pushes that same arm above Frank's head and holds it there. To restrain. Frank lets him and Fisk likes this. A lot. But this is something else right now.

Fisk watches as Frank jerks himself off, something erotic about Frank feeling pleasure like this. Dominated, aching from the violence. He's getting someone else's blood on his lower belly and dick. Fisk pushes his leg up between Frank's parted thighs more, lifts Frank up to his toes when Frank gets close. He wants Frank to feel out of control. He wants to see it. Fisk brings his face close, hovers in Frank's face when Frank seizes. Pulls Frank's hair with his free hand so he's looking at him. Frank is panting, his hand is working between his legs and when Frank's eyes close, Fisk sinks his teeth into Frank's neck and tongues the skin there.

That's all it takes, Frank is cumming on himself, jerking against Fisk. He's moaning into Fisk's ear, ducking his head to Fisk's chest like a form of embarrassed submission. 

Fisk wants to _ruin_ him. 

 

**out**

The times in which Frank shuts him out are the most rewarding, Fisk thinks. It's when he discovers things that Frank is trying to hide. Personal. Which Fisk supposes it is; it's Frank's body that he's pushing into. But it was something else. It was like Fisk had to pry him open, force him to reveal. Even in this state, Frank had the power to refuse him. It never could last long, not with Frank being the sole focus of his attention.

Frank is in his lap and it's the fastest he's made Frank release, even if he remains relatively silent.

"I'm going to continue to fuck you, Castle. Until you tell me where. Then I'll stop." And he moves until Frank's body tells him to stop, tells him Fisk has found his spot. Until he's clamping down onto Fisk so hard that it almost sends Fisk over the edge. Fisk stops and waits for Frank to hold his end, and after a few moments Frank huffs.

"Yeah." Fisk doesn't continue. He pulls Frank down, down. Until he's balls deep. Until Frank jumps against him, his brows coming together and his cock jerks against his stomach.

"Yeah. There, ok?" That's a start. It's the start of something and he rides Frank through the fuck, pulls his head down to his mouth so he can lick on Frank's neck and that has Frank responding. Like it always does. His neck was his hot spot. And Fisk keeps him there until he's cumming. 

Shaking apart in his lap.

 

**wet**

Fisk has wanted this. For longer than he can remember. Maybe when they first met. When Frank saw through him, asked what he wanted. This. 

Frank is pulling at his restraints. Harder than he has before. The handcuffs dig into his wrists and make them raw. One of Frank's legs is over Fisk's shoulder. Fisk's tongue is in Frank, has been for a few minutes. They came back from the showers and Frank had looked too good with wet hair, there were too many men watching him clean himself. Fisk felt something. Something he hadn't felt since Vanessa. 

He pushes his tongue in as far as it'll go. Licks deep inside, manuevering. Frank is panting, biting his bottom lip. His body is tense like a bow. But he's hard and leaking against his own stomach. Fisk lifts his head, dips his tongue into Frank's bellybutton until Frank jerks, forces his mind back to the present, before continuing. 

Soft "ah"s leave Frank's mouth with every lick and push, and the sounds seem to be something that Frank can't control. Fisk will have to do this more often. He wants to. He must be hitting Frank inside  _just right_ because Frank is making  _those sounds_ that are getting louder. Fisk licks his palm, once. Twice. Holds Frank in his hand until Frank is lifting his hips without meaning to. Until he looks away and closes his eyes against it. But Fisk pulls him back, he always pulls him back. He grips one of Frank's hips tightly, pulling Frank onto him, onto his tongue, and Frank 's muscles tense and release. He does it again. 

 

"Ahhh-" Frank gasps. He twists, his heel digging into Fisk's back. Fisk doesn't mind. He continues unabated, licking wet and sloppy into Frank's body. Pushing, _pushing_ inside him to dance along his inner walls. Fisk does what he knows Frank likes, coaxes a burning pleasure from Frank's body as he lays back with open legs and takes it. Because he has to. Frank's body tightens again, this time more sudden and intense.

 

" _Fuck_ , stop it.  _Stop_ , Fisk. I -" Fisk _can't_ , he _won't_. Frank's body pulls taut and his head snaps back against the sheets. It's invigorating. When Frank cums, Wilson continues pushing his tongue into him. Relentless in forcing Frank's body to open to him. Even now as he's made vulnerable before him, it's not enough. Fisk strips his cock in his hand and Frank is moaning openly into the air, jerking and tightening around his tongue. Fisk can't bring himself to separate from Frank's skin. He wants to break him, he wants him to cry for him. He wants Frank to burn under his touch, wants him to always remember how good he was to him. How intensely he made him feel, how much lust -

Frank's legs relax, his eyes are glazed over and he watches Fisk's unceasing tongue force into his body through his shivering. Frank's lashes flutter. His lips are parted and his hips roll to meet Fisk's ministrations. He's hesitant about it, but Fisk encourages him by running a hand up his front to rest lightly on his neck. His hold is loose. He watches as Frank pauses his motions again, silence except for the wet sounds of Fisk's tongue. His frame shudders again and he curses. The tension releases for a moment and Frank rides the wave of pleasure out with a deep breath.

It will never be enough.


End file.
